snap the capsule
by annicaspoons
Summary: It's happening. The thing he was supposed to stop. And he has no idea what he was supposed to do.


**Title:** snap the capsule  
**Author:** annicaspoon  
**Characters:** Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes  
**Words:** 1,200  
**Summary:** It's happening. The thing he was supposed to stop. And he has no idea what he was supposed to do.  
**A/N:** For my DARLING Jaime on tumblr (katelynpossible). This was all her fault, she gave me feels and I ficced.

-o-

This is wrong. It's all wrong. Wrong, bad, moded, _totally _not crash. It's the hell that's about to rise; the future that no-one wants.

It's the thing he was supposed to stop.

Worst part of it is, this is his fault. He would have been able to stop it if this was just a few months ago. He knows what he has to do; he's run the plan through his head so many times that it's imprinted in his mind. He was completely prepared and able to do what had to be done.

But he slipped.

Somehow, between fake smiles and rapid speech; between the exchanges of 'hermano' and 'crash' and packets of chicken whizees, and, a few times, the exchanges of secrets – somehow, something grew and twisted and squeezed itself into Bart's initial resolve. He realized, that Blue Beetle – _Jaime_ – was as scared as he was; terrified of that bug, _literal bug_, inside him that could take control and destroy his whole world.

Jaime was probably more scared of Bart's Blue Beetle than Bart was himself.

Bart grew an unwanted empathy towards the other boy. Sure, it wasn't too hard to get close to someone in a similar circumstance, but there was always the niggling feeling that through beginning to care for Jaime, he was beginning to care for Blue Beetle too. And that – caring for the monster that had haunted his life, both awake and asleep, for so many years – that was something that bothered him.

Especially when that caring led to something…more.

He doesn't know what he was thinking; the first time he kissed Jaime. It was so impulsive and quick that it only registered after he had pulled away and dashed down the hall. It wasn't even a cheek kiss; his lips had gone straight for Jaime's, cutting off the other boy in the middle of speech.

It was no better when he finally went to apologize. That just led to a deeper, more passionate kiss (they might as well just call it a make-out), and when they both finally broke away, red faced and flustered, they both agreed that they needed to do something to avoid this occurrence becoming a frequent thing.

(Because deciding to go out was _the best solution_ they could have come up with.)

There had been moments where Bart stopped and questioned himself for a moment. This wasn't right. This wasn't what he was supposed to be doing. He was supposed to make sure that Jaime never became the Blue Beetle monster from the future – from his past – and if he failed in that, he was supposed to make sure that Blue Beetle could never hurt anyone. He was supposed to be prepared to kill him – he was supposed to be ready to kill Jaime if the time came.

He was never supposed to fall in love with him.

And now, that's become his weakness. He's kneeling on the ground in front of Blue Beetle, just like he did back in the future. Pebbles are digging into his knees, through the torn spandex. His goggles have been tossed aside, broken, and in his left hand, he's holding the one thing that can stop this, all of it, right now.

The instructions and plans that he once knew off by heart are now unreachable in his memories. He's trying to remember what he's supposed to do with this small capsule, but instead he's remembering what Jaime tastes like; he's remembering that time he ate the last chocolate brownie and Jaime had pressed his lips up against Bart's, his tongue darting between their mouths, trying to get the taste of that last brownie.

He can't do this. It was the one thing he was supposed to make sure he could do – the main thing he came back for – and he's kneeling pathetically on the ground among the fallen and unconscious bodies of his teammates, looking desperately up at Blue Beetle, trying to find Jaime past the grown armour and the blank lenses.

"Jaime…p-please…" His voice is cracking and it sounds so weak and pitiful that he feels like the child that ran away from his timeline; the stupid, desperate boy who thought he'd be able to save his world. Blue Beetle stares down at him blankly, like it's considering him, before it slowly moves its sonar canon to point straight towards Bart's head.

Jaime isn't in there anymore.

Bart's face scrunches up, and he tries in vain to stop the stupid, hot tears that keep slipping out and falling down his cheeks. It's ugly and horrible and makes him look so weak, but it's not like there's anyone to see and judge him for it.

"I'm sorry," he wheezes out, and he's not sure whether he's sorry at the team – and the world – for not stopping this; or whether he's sorry to Nathaniel and everyone else in the future who were counting on him to fix this. Maybe he's saying sorry for all the lies, for the false pretences – or maybe he's sorry for himself; the younger self who will be born into a broken world in twenty-five years, and will have to live this all over again.

Or maybe he's saying sorry to Jaime – he's in there, somewhere, he _has_ to be, _he can't be gone_ – for not being able to save or stop him, like he had promised him.

.

.

.

.

.

"Hey, Bart?"

"Hmm?"

"What if I do become evil?" Bart rolls his head to the side to look at his boyfriend. Jaime is staring down at the ground in front of him, the blue-white glow of the TV casting strange, harsh shadows across his features. He glances up at Bart, and Bart can swear that there's something haunted settling in his eyes. "What'll happen then?" he presses.

Bart looks back at the TV and settles himself closer to Jaime. "It won't happen. We solved that problem in Reach's headquarters. It's fine. It'll all be crash, you'll see." He shoots a grin towards Jaime, but the other boy is continuing to frown towards him, fearful and concerned.

"Bart…"

Bart sighs, and turns away from the TV. "If it _did_ still happen, I brought something back with me to stop it."

"And you'll use it?"

"Sure."

"Promise?"

Bart's jaw tightens and he swallows, turning back to face Jaime. He wants to tell Jaime what the capsule will do, how it'll tear at and eat away the beetle armour, how it'll ravage the internal organs – the muscles, the blood vessels, the nerves - how the pain will be so excruciating that it'll kill the host body to release it from the scarab's control.

One look at Jaime's expression tells him that he already can figure this out. Bart bites on his tongue.

"Promise."

.

.

.

.

.

_He promised._

He can hear Blue Beetle's cannon begin to whir into action, and he bows his head and squeezes his wet eyes shut.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and as he hears the beginning of the shot, his hand shoots out at superspeed and cracks open the capsule onto Blue Beetle's leg.

Then the world is light and heat and pain and all of the grey – from his birth to his death – it's all being blown away.

And even though it's impossible, with the sound that Blue Beetle's cannon gives off, he can swear that he hears Jaime screaming.

_"I'm sorry."_


End file.
